


Crowning

by ToastyDehmer



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Comfort, M/M, More Stupidly Sweet Fluff, Prince Rhys, knight jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyDehmer/pseuds/ToastyDehmer
Summary: Rhys has his own worries while preparing for his crowning as King. His faithful knight is there to help him.(A drabble and another WIP that will never be finished)
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Kudos: 11





	Crowning

Everything was new. It was an old-new. Minor changes had been made in the rebuilding process. Not many would notice. After all, only the Royal Family and their servants saw these rooms, these halls enough to memorize the subtle characteristics that made each seemingly copycat room unique from one another.

The walls had been scrubbed clean and in fact, they were cleaner than they ever had been in Rhys’ life. There, behind the door, was the tiny dent made when Rhys and Vaughn had stolen and broken some compound of the Royal Alchemist’s. And over behind the wooden bench that had been a gift from the Jakobs Kingdom, the floor had a miniscule crack from Rhys’ grandfather’s era. It was little things like this with memories from old and new generations that set the rooms apart. Each had their own snippets of stories, pieced together from ages of use. Scars and brands. That was what made these rooms old.

What made them new…

Next to the window was a hole where a crossbow bolt had gotten stuck. On the ceiling there was a scrap in the darkened corner where Rhys could make out a few specks of dried blood. The creases of the stone floor were clean but memories of red rivulets filling the gaps constantly nicked at Rhys’ mind anytime he dared to focus on them for too long. Memories of death. Of pain and loss.

Every robe on his shoulder felt too heavy just as the burdens he bore felt all-consuming. Rhys was a prince, the heir to the throne and already he had seen more of the world than the last four generations of his family. The Royal line lived long, long lives thanks to their affinity for magic. Most heirs never became King or Queen until their mid-thirtties. Young for them as they could live to their mid-hundreds though most abdicated by their second century. And yet there Rhys stood awaiting his signal to march into the halls where he would be crowned King at the mere age of nineteen.

At fifteen, Rhys had seen his parents murdered in front of him.

At sixteen, his kingdom had fallen to invaders and Rhys had been forced to flee with a single knight as his protector.

At seventeen, Rhys had mastered his magic on his own with no one left to teach him.

At eighteen, Rhys had gathered an allied army of all the other nine kingdoms.

And only a month ago, freshly turned nineteen, Rhys had taken back his homeland, executed the Calypso Twins, the ones who took everything from him, sent all opposers to the gallows, and had been allowed to finally give his parents the funeral they deserved.

Now… Today, he was being crowned King.

Yes, Rhys had seen more than his share of the world. He had nearly everything taken from him and been forced on the run. His mother and father, dead. Uncles and aunts, dead. His friends? Sacrificed in the name of keeping Rhys alive.

It felt...wrong. Being the last one left alive of his friends and family felt wrong. Tears rose up in Rhys’ eyes unbidden. He moved over to the window and looked out at the festive town. Streamers and lights and joy abound in the celebration happening just outside the castle walls. It only made it hit all the harder that he wasn’t supposed to be- this wasn’t supposed to- none of this-

It was all  wrong .

“You’re thinking too much again, my King.”

Rhys glanced over his shoulder at his knight. Blue and green eyes looked back and Rhys knew of the worry and grief that hid behind those impassive stained glass-like eyes. The silence gave Rhys the time to admire his armor. Clean and adorned with Rhys’ family crest, they looked fetching on Jack even slouched as he was against the wall guarding the door. He held himself the same way he had their first year on the run when they were hiding in the little border town of Concordia, trying to wait out the desperate search of the Calypso’s guards. Jack had looked ready to strike and kill should anyone come through the door regardless of if they were friend or foe. He looked the same way now.

Rhys knew that armor certainly wouldn’t help Jack slay any made up enemy. No, it was much too heavy and limited the man in his movements. Noisy to boot. Jack hated the armor, couldn’t stop complaining about it as soon as he had seen it days ago. Rhys couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto his lips.

The lines of Jack’s face softened and he pushed off the wall before walking over to Rhys.

“There you are,” the man hummed, armored hand gently cupping Rhys’ cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Rhys leaned into the touch and flicked his eyes away, smile falling.

“I miss them,” he softly admitted. Tears finally fell and dripped onto the white fur lining the neckline and outside edges of the imperial yellow robe. He leaned into Jack’s chest, ducked his head down. Jack wrapped his arms around Rhys, laid his chin on top of Rhys’ hair, and held him. A choked sob left Rhys, the tender hold breaking the dams he had built over years. “I miss...everyone. They should be here. My father should have been the one to lead the anointment, my mother the one to lead the communion. Vaughn and Yvette should be in here with us, my uncles and aunts fretting over the decorations. But they’re- they’re gone and I- I did  _ nothing- _ ”

“ **Hey.** ” Jack’s voice was quiet, quiet and firm in Rhys’ ear. It was a tone that spoke of commanding and understanding. Rhys fell silent and pressed closer. “You did everything you could, Rhys.”

If Rhys was a crumbling wall then Jack was the force that took those broken pieces and rebuilt around those that were missing, took pieces from himself and offered them until a gateway and a bridge stood.

“Your mother was right all those years ago. The best choice had been for you to escape. No one expected you to come back but look where we are now. You did come back and you managed the unthinkable. Rhys Oberon, Leader of Kings, Champion of Hyperion, and the Sovereign Advisor to the Ten Kingdoms - the second to ever exist since the ages of Titania and Oberon themselves.

“Everyone who gave their lives for you knew you would honor their deaths.”

Jack sounded so sure, so certain and Rhys tried to bite back the sob that throbbed in his chest like a visceral ache. It shook his shoulders, made him quake like a newborn lamb trying to stand. And still Jack held him.

“You...are good, Rhys.”

The words choked him.

“I don’t deserve you, Jack,” Rhys warbled. Jack snorted, disbelief coloring it and gently squeezed the other. “I don’t now... Definitely didn’t when this entire mess started.”

At that, Jack gave a single barked laugh. Rhys sniffled, smiled, and wiped away the tears at the corner of his eyes with the back of a hand.

“You were one hell of a brat back then,” Jack mused, amusement still playing as a soft undertone. “You always thought you were right but didn’t have a single clue how to start a damn fire.”

“Hey.” Rhys dragged the word out and lifted his head. He looked right into Jack’s eyes, saw the humor in his irises and the adoration in the beginnings of his crows feet. And Rhys felt… “Excuse you, I  _ tried _ .”

“Oh yes,” Jack gave with a serious nod. “You really did try, pumpkin. And somehow you pissed off a  _ water sprite _ in the middle of it all. We were nowhere near a river or lake. Or pond. Or stream. Or even a puddle!”

“Shove it, old man.” Rhys’ smirk was devilish.

“Watch it now.” Jack eyed Rhys and the King could see the fondness hidden in those depths.

This was a distraction, that much Rhys knew. He would have to come to terms with it all eventually. But as the sonorous voice of the priest rang through the doors Rhys would have to walk through he also knew that this wasn’t the time or the place. He knew his kingdom had a long ways to go before it was fixed. He knew there was a lot of work ahead of him. And he knew he would have Jack at his side every step of the way.

Rhys wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and pressed their foreheads together with a content hum.

“You’re my old man though.” The words were heavy with sweet, sweet nectar. “And you have my loyalty...and my love.”

“And you, mine,” Jack quietly murmured. They let the moment between them sit until they heard the discrete knock on the door. It was showtime.

Jack and Rhys stepped apart and Rhys felt...lighter. The guilt hung over his head like an oppressive cloud waiting for the chance to swarm back in but for the time being it was held at bay. A moment of clarity struck Rhys, his gaze moving back to the window and to the hidden crowd beyond it. If his kingdom needed time before it was fixed then Rhys felt like he would need ages. That wasn’t true. Time healed all. That much he had learned while on the run. And even though it felt insurmountable, Rhys knew he’d find his own peace sooner than he thought.

He heard Jack move closer before he felt the hand on his shoulder.

“Ready?”

_ ‘No.’ _ That was Rhys’ immediate thought. No, he wasn’t ready. He was so young. How could anyone be ready?

“My people come before me,” Rhys hummed. He gave Jack a small smile as he turned and made his way over to the door. “Even if I’m not, I have to be.”

Jack didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. Rhys knew it wasn’t a mindset he agreed with.

Together they fell in line before the door.

Rhys took a deep breath in...held it...let it out.

“Let’s go.”

The door from the side room felt as if it was heavier than when Rhys first walked in but that was ridiculous and he knew it. It was just his nerves playing tricks on him. Out the side room they went and over to the large double doors that would lead into where he would be named King, Rhys’ set of guards obediently trailing behind. And after that it would be to the balcony for the public crowning ceremony.

Rhys listened, waiting for his cue to walk through the doors. Internally he knew what the Archdruid was saying behind those doors. He knew they were going over the rites, preparing the necessary magic and rituals for the ceremony. Rhys knew that. But standing in front of the doors all he could hear were his worries.

Was it normal to feel like this? To feel like he wouldn’t be enough? That he’d screw it up as soon as he said a single thing? Because that’s what Rhys felt like. No, he didn’t feel ready for this at all and he feared this was a mistake, that he’d look back someday and wonder if he made the right choice in taking back the throne. His people were happier, yes. But could Rhys keep them in this age of peace?

The droning of the Archmage fell off into a moment of silence and Rhys took a deep breath to prepare himself. He felt a nudge at his side. Jack. The prince glanced at his knight and found the other grinning at him. It was a wide thing, vicious and victorious. It was a shared victory for them both and Rhys grinned back just as wildly. Already he could feel his resolve strengthening, firming up and digging deep like the roots of an ancient oak tree.

He wasn’t ready. And that was okay. It would be okay because even though he had an entire history to live up to, a kingdom to please, and other nations to advise, Rhys knew he could make it through so long as he had Jack at his side. They’ve been through so much together already. What was a little more?

“You remember your part, right Jack?” Rhys asked in the little moment they had left. Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course I do. Who do you take me for, some knockoff street fortune teller?”

Rhys snorted and turned to the doors just as he heard his cue. They opened up and Rhys shuttered his expression, amusement hidden behind the facade the court saw. He strode forward with Jack just behind him, his guards behind Jack.


End file.
